PETER'S SONG

Chorus:
There was Peter sitting in the corner fiddle in his hand
Playing away like you never did hear and you'll never hear again
Charlie on banjo, Shorty on the bodhràn everything was grand
Come on Mark and let me in I want to join the band

Then Maeve did come and she let me in and I made my way along
Rafters rang with reels and jigs and someone sang a song
There were flying bows and bodhràns sticks you hadn't room to turn
But there was always a chair and a couple drinks
For the lad who came to learn

Chorus

But then the time said "Gentlemen please," and the gentlemen did go
Some of us might stay a while and sing songs very low
Then Peter he'd play one last song and put away the bow
But his fiddle is still playing no matter where you go

Chorus

It was in the springtime '74 that Peter he did die
And Fergie played the death march it was great Tallaght's town
And as we stood there silently as if from out the grave
Johnny's chickens could be heard and I could see it all again

Chorus

The day that Peter passed away we always will regret
But the things he said and the tunes he played we never will forget
Now the heavenly choir has dropped their lyres
And the angels tugged their harps
The rattle of the penny on the golden gate and this is his remark

Final Chorus:
There was Peter sitting in the corner fiddle in his hand
Playing away like you never did hear and you'll never hear again
St. Paul on banjo, Moses on the bodhràn everything was grand
Oh mighty Lord please let me in I want to join the band

PHIL THE FLUTTER'S BALL

Have you heard of Phil the Flutter, of the town of Ballymuck?
The times were going hard with him, in fact the man was broke.
So he just sent out a notice to his neighbours, one an all
As to how he'd like their company that evening at a ball.

And when writin' out he was careful to suggest to them,
That if they found a hat of his convenient to the dure,
The more they put in, whenever he requested them
The better would the music be for battherin' the flute.

With the toot of the flute, And the twiddle of the fiddle, O;
Hopping in the middle, like a herrin' on the griddle, O.
Up! down, hands aroun', Crossing to the wall.
Oh! Hadn't we the gaiety at Phil the Flutter's Ball.

There was Mister Denis Dogherty, who kep' the runnin' dog;
There was little crooked Paddy, from the Tiraloughett bog;
There was boys from every Barony, and girls from every "art''
And the beautiful Miss Brady's, in a private ass an' cart,

And along with them came bouncing Mrs. Cafferty,
Little Micky Mulligan was also to the fore,
Rose, Suzanne, and Margaret O'Rafferty,
The flower of Ardmagullion, and the pride of Pethravore.

First, little Micky Mulligan got up to show them how,
And then the Widda' Cafferty steps out and makes her bow,
I could dance you off your legs, sez she, as sure as you are born,
If ye'll only make the piper play, "The hare was in the corn.''

So Phil plays up to the best of his ability,
The lady and the gentleman begin to do their share;
Faith, then Mick it's you that has agility,
Begorra Mrs. Cafferty, yer leppin' like a hare!

Then Phil the Flutter tipped a wink to little Crooked Pat,
"I think it's nearly time,'' sez he, "for passin' round the hat.''
So Paddy pass'd the caubeen round, and looking mighty cute.
Sez, "Ye've got to pay the piper when he toothers on the flute.''

Then all joined in wid the greatest joviality,
Covering the buckle, and the shuffle, and the cut;
Jigs were danced, of the very finest quality,
But the Widda' bet the company at "handling the fleut.''

PIED PIPER

Well it seems when he came over things were fairly looking up
Played full forward for Mountbellew when they won the county cup
Young Barrett's gone to Boston so he has to play in goal
The Pied Piper's come to Ireland and he's living on the dole

You can stroll through Cong and Ballinrobe,
You can walk the streets of Tuam
Thumb out as far as Headford on returning pass through Shrule
You won't see many young ones no matter where you roam
The Pied Piper's come to Ireland and he's living on the dole

Chorus:
The Pied Piper's come to Ireland and he's living on the dole
Played in Spiddal with the Waterboys now he loves rock 'n roll

Now there's just a pile of rubble where the workers used to go
Just a stones throw from the banks through which
The ould Clare river flows
When the people hear his haunting tune they pack
And leave their homes
For fear of revolution the pied piper gets the dole

Chorus:
The Pied Piper's come to Ireland and he's living on the dole
Played in Spiddal with the Waterboys now he loves rock 'n roll

I hear they're raising money abroad in New York town
It's not for guns or bombs this time but to turn the tables round
One last job for the piper and they'll pay one great amount
To drive them all into the sea that gang in Leinster House

Chorus:
The Pied Piper's come to Ireland and he's living on the dole
Played in Spiddal with the Waterboys now he loves rock 'n roll

PILLS

It was on a Monday morning, I was tired, my head was turning,
And I couldn't face the thought of going back to work and so,
I paid a visit to my doctor and he gave me the once over,
Said ’don't worry, we'll soon have you on the go'

Chorus:
You need pills, pills, pills and pills, pills to take the pain away,
Just swallow two three times a day; you'll be as good as new,
And we've got pills to make you happy, pills to pep you up and calm you down,
It's magic what a pill can do

So I took the dose as ordered and my energy was restored,
But I was twitching, I was itching, couldn't keep my body still,
So I twitched right back to see the quack, "oh yes", he said, "we'll soon cure that,
I'll just prescribe another little pill"

Chorus

Well the twitching soon subsided, but my eyelids wouldn't open,
I was dozy, droopy, drowsy, so I asked the doctor why,
He just took a little look in his now mufti-colored book,
Then he shook me from my slumbers with a cry

Chorus

Now my cupboard's overflowing with the pills that keep me going,
I've got yellow, pink and orange ones; I can't think what they're for
But they look so reassuring I suppose they must be curing me,
I wonder how I ever coped before without…

Chorus

Now the drug firms are delighted and they say I should be knighted,
Cos I keep their profits healthy and they've got a super plan,
To launch a major operation to present me to the nation,
As a fully working model of a well adjusted man

PENNY EVANS

My name is Penny Evans and my age is twenty-one
I'm widow of the war that was fought in Vietnam
I have two baby daughters and I do the best I can
They say the war is over, but I think it's just begun

I remember, I was seventeen, when first I met young Bill
At his father's grand piano, we played both heart and soul
I only knew the left hand part, he played the right so well
He's the only boy I slept with and the only one I will

Well first we had a baby girl and we had two good years
And then the warning notice came, we parted without tears
Then nine months from our last good-bye, our second child appeared
And ten months and a telegram, confirming all our fears

And once a month I get a check from some army bureaucrat
And once a month I tear it up and mail the damn thing back
Do they think that makes it all right--do they think I'll fall for that
They can keep their bloody money, it won't bring my Jimmy back

I never cared for politics, speeches I don't understand
Like-wise I'll take no charity from any living man
For tonight there's fifty-thousand gone in that unhappy land
And fifty-thousand hearts and souls being played by just one hand

So my name is Penny Evans and my age is twenty-one
I'm widow of the war that was fought in Vietnam
I have two baby daughters, thank God I have no sons
They say the war is over, but for me it's just begun

PLASTIC PADDY

He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
There's plastic shamrocks on the walls, there's Guinness and green beer
And a sign in Gaelic above the bar which says "God Bless All Here!"

His guitar sounds like a wardrobe, and it's out of tune at that
His singing voice it ranges from F-sharp to F-flat
He's just desecrated "The Holy Ground", ripped apart "Black Velvet Band"
Sang, "Seven Nights Drunk" and now he's sunk "The Irish Rover" with all hands
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
The publican's a Proddy Scot by the name of McIntyre
Who does not allow collections for The Men Behind The Wire

He's done awful things to "Molly Malone" and the fair "Rose Of Tralee"
He's murdered "Carrickfergus" and poor old "Mother McCree"
He's thrashed his way through "Galway Bay" and "The Wild Irish Rose"
And if he starts singing "Danny Boy" I'm gonna punch him in the nose
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
There's Aer Lingus poster everywhere showing pretty Irish scenes
All peaceful and idyllic, and very bloody green

"When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and "The Mountains of Mourne"
In his search for Celtic cliché your has left no stone unturned
Till he embarks upon "The Harp Once Through Tara's Halls"
Accompanying himself of the bodhràn which takes a lot of balls
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
He's just sung in his mother tongue, the ancient Irish Erse
And cleared the pub completely by the forty-second verse

Yes he's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
He's started singing "Danny Boy" so it's time that I was gone
And just one thought comes to my mind as I stagger out the door
Where are you when we need your Christy Moore
Where are you when we need your Christy Moore

POOL SONG

May the Lord upon high who rules the sky, look down on our pubs and bars
And the women and men all seated within, neglecting there pints and there jars
The crack it is bad the atmosphere bad, very man has a face like mule
For all he can do is to grab an oul cue and start playing that game called pool

Now when I was a boy it was always me joy to go to the pub each night
There were arguments, scraps and killings perhaps and everyone though he was right
There was badgers and dogs and men from the bogs and young fellas acting the tool
But now there's no crack for every man jack has his arse in the air playing pool

To the local ale house after milking the cows every customer made his way
And there he would dwell and drink till he fell while the fiddles and pipes they did play
The jigs and the reels, the rattling of heels, polkas and slides were the rule
But now there's no chance for a tune or a dance, for everyone's playing the old pool

Now pool you will find is a game designed for foolish, illiterate louts
You put in four bob and pull an old knob and a big shower of balls they come out
They're placed on the table and then if your able to knock them all in to a hole
More money goes in, you start over again and you lose every bob of your dole

Now in the Irish Free State all the people are beat from watching and playing this game
In their necks they have cricks which no doctor can fix & their backs and their shoulders are maimed
Their arses protrude in a manner most lewd from being hoisted aloft in the air
Their eye balls are sore and dripping with gore and they in a manner most quare

So if you meet a young man whose face it is wane and his eyes have a vacant stare
His jawbone is slack and his head is thrown back and he can't tell a cob from a mare
His nostrils dilated, his brow corrugated, his manners like those of a fool
On your shirt you can bet that you have just met, a man's that's gone plain mad for pool

POOR OLD DUBLIN TOWN

Dublin City is falling, down falling, down falling down
Dublin City is falling down early in the morning

A thousand years ago they say they built a city in a bay
A pretty little city called founded by the Vikings

Chorus:
Well they're tearing it up and knocking it down
Knocking it down, knocking it down
Tearing it up and knocking it down, poor old Dublin town

I went for a walk along the quays, along the quays, along the quays
Diggers and shovels and J.C.B.'s were digging up the Vikings

Chorus:
Digging it up and pulling it down
Pulling it down, pulling it down
Digging it up and pulling it down, poor old Dublin town

A Viking came to Dublin town, Dublin town, Dublin town
Took one look and he turned around and sailed back home again

Chorus:
They were ripping it up and tearing down
Tearing down, tearing down
They were ripping it up and tearing down

Save our city save Wood Quay, don't destroy ,it leave it be
It's full our past and our history founded by the Vikings

Chorus:
Tearing it up and knocking it down, knocking it down, knocking it down
Tearing it up and knocking it down poor old Dublin town
Tearing it up and knocking it down, knocking it down, knocking it down
Tearing it up and knocking it down poor old Dublin town
My dear old Dublin town, ah Dublin's falling down

THE PUB WITH NO BEER

Well, the publican's anxious for the quota to come,
There's a faraway look on the face of the bum,
The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's actin' queer -
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer!

Chorus:
Oh, it's lonesome away from your kindred and all
Round a campfire at night, where the wild dingoes call
But there's nothin' so lonesome, so morbid or drear
As to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.

The stockman rides in with his dry, dusty throat,
Goes up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coat,
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
When the barman says suddenly, "The pub's got no beer!"

There's a dog on the verandah, for his master he waits,
But the boss is inside, drinkin' wine with his mates,
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear,
It's no place for a dog, round a pub with no beer!

Then in comes the swagman, all covered with flies,
He throws down his roll, wipes the sweat from his eyes,
But when he is told he says, "What's this I hear?
I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer!"

Oh, pity the blacksmith - first time in his life
He's gone home cold sober to his darlin' wife
He walks in the kitchen; she says, "You're early, my dear,"
Then he breaks down and he tells her that the pub's got no beer.

PADDY KELLY'S BREW

Paddy Kelly is my name, making poteen is my game
And I live a way there behind the hill
I can make a drop that's pure and there's nothing it can't cure
It surpasses any medicine or pill

Chorus:
And it tastes as sweet as honey as it trickles down your throat
It looks as clear and pure as morning dew
It would make a fella sing, though he didn't have a note
Won't you try a drop of Paddy Kelly's brew

Now it will cure your rheumatism it'll cure a wheezy chest
It will cure you of the gout or gall stones too
It curses toothache, headache, backache, fallen hair and all the rest
Fallen arches, corns and bunions and the flu

Chorus

Any summer day you'll find me catching salmon in the glen
Or setting snares for rabbits on the hill
But nicest thing of all is when evening shadows fall
Just to watch those bottles filling at my still

Chorus

Now I know you will confess that the world's in a mess
And the politicians don't know what to do
I can offer them a plan that will cure the ills of man
Throw away the guns and hand out Kelly's brew

PADDY LAY BACK

'Twas a cold and frosty morning in December
All of me money, it was spent,
Where it went to, Lord, I can't remember
So I down to the shipping office went

Paddy lay back, Paddy lay back! Take in the slack, Take in the slack
Take a turn around the capstan, Heave away! Heave away!
About ship's stations, boys, be handy,
We're bound for Valparaiso 'round the Horn!

That day there was a great demand for sailors,
For the colonies, for 'Frisco and for France.
So I shipped aboard a limey barge, the Hotspur,
An' got paralytic drunk on my advance.

I woke up in the mornin' sick an' sore,
I knew I was on me way again;
I hear a voice a-bawlin' at the door,
``Get up ya buggers, an' answer to yer names.''

'Twas on the quarterdeck where I first saw 'em.
Such an ugly bunch I never seen before,
For the captain shipped a shanghai crew of Dutchmen,
it made me poor ol' heart feel sick and sore.

There was Spaniards an' Dutchmen an' Rooshians,
an' Jolly Jacks across the sea from France.
An' none of them could speak a word of English,
but answered to the name of `Month's Advance!'

I wished I was in the "Jolly Sailor,''
along with Irish Kate a-drinking' beer,
An' then I thought what jolly chaps were sailors,
An' with me flipper I wiped away a tear.

A PAIR OF BROWN EYES

One summer's evening drunk to hell I sat there nearly lifeless
And old man in the corner sang where the water lilies grow
And on the juke box Johnny sang about a thing called love
And it's how are you kid and what's your name
and how would you bloody know

In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men were scattered all around
Some cursed some prayed some prayed, then cursed, then preyed,
Then bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back labeled parts one, two and three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me
And a rovin', a rovin', a rovin' I'll go for a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him, he looked at me, all I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang of my elusive dreams
I saw the streams, the rolling hills, where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes that waited once for me
And a rovin', a rovin', a rovin' I'll go for a pair of brown eyes

So drunk to hell I left the place, sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze, so I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago from the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the tree,
Where the wind was gently laughing

And a rovin', a rovin', a rovin' I'll go for a pair of brown eyes
And a rovin', a rovin', a rovin' I'll go for a pair of brown eyes
For a pair of brown eyes For a pair of brown eyes

PARADE

The Military band is playing, come see the parade,
Wave and cheer our heroes as they bravely march away,
This time it's not the unemployed, the workers or the poor,
It's the captains of our industries who're marching off to war.

They're marching from the boardroom and from the stately home,
From their club and from the embassy we're proud to see them come,
It's their turn to lift the banner and to listen to the drum,
Younger men must stay at home and keep the lassies warm.

Hurray, Hurray, they're matching out today,
The Millionaires and bankers in the Army.

The millionaire director with a rifle in his hand,
Is off to face the enemy to defend his native land,
He likely won't be quite so fat when he comes back from war,
We know that he'll fight bravely, he knows what he's fighting for.

There goes the factory owner with the other wealthy men,
We'll keep the wheels a turning till they come home again,
Generals order generals to march and wheel and turn,
The men alas must stay at home, there's plenty to be done.

Hurray, Hurray, they're matching out today,
The Millionaires and bankers in the Army.

And there's the politician, who only yesterday
Was talking on the telly of the price we'd have to pay,
He looks a little paler now his words are not so fine,
He's realized that he's the one whose life is on the line.

Let's gather at the window, join the crowds that line the street,
They're waving to the soldiers marching to the beat,
This time it's not the unemployed, the workers or the poor,
It's the judges and the millionaires who're marching off to war.

Hurray, Hurray, they're matching out today,
The Millionaires and bankers in the Army.

Pretty Little Girl From Omagh

Way up in the north in old Tyrone,
There's a pretty little girl I call my own.
She's the sweetest rose Ireland's ever grown.
And sure as the moon and stars above,
I'm falling head over heels in love,
With a pretty little girl from Omagh,
In the county of Tyrone.

There's cute little girls in old Strabane,
They're just as pretty in Monaghan.
This to every roving eye is known.
But I guess that I'd be out of bounds,
'Cos there between the northern towns,
There's a pretty little girl from Omagh,
In the county of Tyrone.

She wears my ring and tells her friends,
She going to marry me.
Best of all she tells them all,
She's going to marry me, oh lucky me.
Well I don't know what she's done to me.
There's nothing else my eyes can see.
My pretty little girl from Omagh, In the county of Tyrone.

T'was down in south in old Tramore,
I recall the yellow dress she wore.
She strolled along the shore there all alone.
But I guess it was my lucky day,
When she came there on holiday.
My pretty little girl from Omagh, In the county of Tyrone.

She wears my ring and tells her friends,
She going to marry me.
Best of all she tells them all,
She's going to marry me, oh lucky me.
Well I don't know what she's done to me,
There's nothing else my eyes can see.
My pretty little girl from Omagh, In the county of Tyrone.

PADDY McGINTY'S GOAT

Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note
Came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat
Said he, "Sure, of goat's milk I mean to have my fill!"
But when he got his Nanny home, he found it was a Bill

And now all the ladies who live in Killaloo
Are all wearing bustles like their mothers used to do
They each wear a bolster beneath the petticoat
And leave the rest to Providence and Paddy McGinty's goat!

Missis Burke to her daughter said, "Listen, Mary Jane,
Now who was the man you were cuddling in the lane?
He'd long wiry whiskers all hanging from his chin"
"Twas only Pat McGinty's goat, " she answer'd with a grin

Then she went away from the village in disgrace
She came back with powder and paint upon her face
She'd rings on her fingers, and she wore a sable coat
You bet your life they never came from Paddy McGinty's goat

Little Norah McCarthy the knot was going to tie
She washed all her trousseau and hung it out to dry
Then up came the goat and he saw the bits of white:
He chewed up all her falderals, and on her wedding night:

"Oh turn out the gas quick!" she shouted out to Pat
For though l'm your bride, sure l'm not worth looking at
I'd got two of ev'rything, I told you when I wrote
But now I've one of nothing, all thro' Paddy McGinty's goat'

Mickey Riley he went to the races t'other day
He won twenty dollars and shouted, "Hip Hooray!!"
He held up the note, shouting "Look what I've got!"
The goat came up and grabbed at it and swallowed all the lot

"He's eaten my banknote," said Mickey, with the hump
They ran for the doctor, he brought a stomach pump
He pumped and he pumped for that twenty dollar note
But all he got was ninepence out of Paddy McGinty's goat

PADDY MCCLLOUGH

Paddy McCollough was a fine young actor
He played in the streets of Old Killonay
He had a voice like a church bell ringing
People would gather and they'd say,

"There is a man who will play for the King
There's a man who will sing for the Queen
All the world's a stage for this fine young actor
If Paddy can find the way"

Paddy McCollough toured through all the Islands
He played for Lords and for Ladies
The woman swooned when he took the stage
For he was a man who made ladies faint
They'd say...

The King he saw Paddy in the theatre
A noble actor with a regal demeanor
The King he laughed, and the Queen was blushing
When Paddy walked through the door
They said...

Paddy McCollough lived a life of leisure
The chief actor in the King's own play
He sang for Lords and he sang for Ladies
Until his final days
Oh!...

"There is a man who'll play for God in Heaven
There's a man who'll teach the angels to sing
All the world's a stage for this fine young actor
Oh! Paddy he found the way!
Yes! Paddy, he found the way!
Aye! Paddy, he found the way!

PADDY'S GREEN SHAMROCK SHORE (1)

From Derry quay we sailed away
On the 23rd of May
We were taken on board by a pleasant crew
Bound for Americay
Fresh water there we did take on
Five thousand gallons or more
In case we'd run short going to New York
Far away from the Shamrock shore

So fare thee well, sweet Lisa dear
And likewise to Derry town
And twice farewell to my comrades bold
Who still dwell on that sainted ground
If ever fortune will favour me
And I do have money in store
I will come back and wed the sweet lassie I left
On Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore

We sailed three days, we were all seasick
And no-one on board was free
We were all confined unto our bunks
With no one to pity poor me
No fond mother dear, no father kind
To comfort my head went to sore
This made me think more on the wee girl I left
On Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore

We savely reached the other side
In fifteen and twenty days
We were taken as passengers by a man
And led round in six different ways
So each of us drunk a parting glas
In case that we never meet more
And we bade farewell to old Ireland
And Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore

So fare thee well, sweet Lisa dear
And likewise to Derry town
And twice farewell to my comrades bold
Who still dwell on that sainted ground
If fame or fortune will favour me
And I do have money in store
I'll go back and I'll wed the wee lassy I left
On Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore

PADDY'S GREEN SHAMROCK SHORE (2)

Oh fare-thee-well, Ireland, my own dear native land
It breaks my heart to see friends part, for it's then that the teardrops fall;
I'm on my way to Amerikay, will I e'er see my home once more?
For now I leave my own true love on Paddy's green shamrock shore

Our ship she lies at anchor, she's standing by the quay
May fortune bright shine down each night, as we sail over the sea
Many ships were lost, many lives it cost on the journey that lies before
With a tear in my eye I'm bidding good-bye to Paddy's Green shamrock shore

So fare thee well my own true love, I'll think of you night and day
And a place in my mind you surely will find, although I am so far away
Though I'll be alone far away from my home, I'll think of the good times once more
Until the day I can make my way back to Paddy's green shamrock shore

And now the ship is on the waves may heaven protect us all
With the wind in the sail we surely can't fail on this voyage to Baltimore
But my parents and friends did wait till the end, till I could see them no more
I then took a chance for to glance at Paddy's green shamrock shore

PADDY'S GREEN SHAMROCK SHORE (3)

Oh fare thee well to Ireland, my own dear native land
It breaks my heart to see friends part, for it's then that the tear drops fall
I'm on my way to Amerikay, will I ever see home once more
For now I leave my own true love, and Paddy's green shamrock shore

From Londonderry we did sail, it being the fourth of May
Pleasant weather I'm sure we had, going to Amerikay
Fresh water then we did take in, one hundred tons or more
For fear we'd be short on the other side, far from the shamrock shore

Two of our anchors we did weigh, before we left the quay
Down the river we were towed, till we came to Botany Bay
We saw that night the grandest night, we ever saw before
The sun going down 'tween sea and sky, far from the shamrock shore

Early next morning we were sea-sick all, not one of us was free
I myself was confined to bed, with no one to pity me
No father or no mother, to raise my head when sore
That made me think of the friends I left, on the lonely shamrock shore

We landed safely in New York, after four and twenty days
Each comrade by the hand we took, and we marched through different ways
Each one drank a flowing glass, as we might meet no more
With flowing bumpers we drank a health, to the lonely shamrock shore

PADDY'S LAMENTATION

Well it's by the hush me boys and sure that's to hold your noise
Listen to poor Paddy's sad narration
Well I was by hunger pressed and in poverty distressed
So I took a thought, I'd leave the Irish nation
Well I sold me horse and cow, me little pig and sow
Me little plot of land I sold to part with
And me sweetheart Bid McGee, I'm afraid I'll never see
For I left her there that morning broken-hearted

Chorus:
Here's you boys, now take my advice
To America I'll have you not be comming
There is nothing here but war
Where the murdering cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

Well, meself and a hundred more to Americay sailed o'er
Our fortune to be made, oh we were thinking
When we got to Yankee-land, they shoved a gun into our hands
Saying "Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln"

Chorus

General Meaghar to us he said "If you get shot or lose your head
Each murdering son of yours will get a pension"
Well, myself I lost me leg, they gave me a wooden peg
And by God this is the truth to you I mention

Chorus

When I think myself in luck, I get fed on Indian buck
And Ireland is the country I delight in
With the devil I did say, it's curse Americay
For I think I've had enough of your hard fighting

PADRAIG PEARSE

In Dublin town in nineteen sixteen a flame of freedom did arise
A group of men with determination caught an empire by surprise
Through the streets our men were marching
They rallied with their hopes and fears
And the End the boys came searching for their leader Padraig Pearse

Chorus:

The poet and the Irish rebel a Gaelic scholar and a visionary
We gave to him no fitting tribute
When Ireland's at peace only that can be
When Ireland a nation, united and free

On Easter morn he faced the nation from the steps of the G.P.O
And read aloud the proclamation, the seed of nationhood to sow
But soon the word had spread to London of an insurrection there at hand
And the deeds of Padraic Pearse was set about to free his land

For five long days the battle rages, for five long nights the battle wore
We will watch as Dublin City blazes and see our men fall through the floor
No Ireland's proud of her effort for her cause we fought with pride
But to save more life and to save our city, we make our peace with McFainis cried

Kilmainham Jail in 1916, they brought young Pearse
to his death cell and they tried him as a traitor
to shoot this man who dared to rebel
He only tried to free his country of the shackles of 800 years
When dawn did break on that May morning
they shot our Leader Padraic Pearse

PARTING GLASS, THE

O, all the money e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I've done
alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
to mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

O, all the comrades e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts e'er I had
They'd wished me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be with you all

If I had money enough to spend
And leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this town
That sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips
I own, she has my heart in thrall
Then fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

PATRICK STREET

You sailor lads, come lend an ear, and listen to me song
it's of a trick 'twas played on me, and won't detain you long:
I came home from see the other day and a girl I chanced to meet
and she's asked me up along with her to dance in Patrick Street

Well says I "me pretty fair maid, I cannot dance too well
besides I'm bound for Newry town where my parents they do dwell
I've been at sea these last few years and I've saved up fifty pounds
and me parents are expecting me, tonight in Newry town"

"Well since you cannot dance too well then you shall have a treat:
You can have a glass of brandy, and something nice to eat
At nine o'clock this evening I'll lead you to your train
but don't forget to call on me when you come back again"

Well she seemed to be so friendly, I went and hired a car
We both went down to Patrick Street and on arrival there
some people on the other side, I thought I heard them say
"He'll sure be in need of a jaunting car, before he gets away"

We had not been long in the room when whiskey it came in
and when everyone had had their fill, the dancing did begin
Me and me love we danced around all to a merry tune
while the other couples did the double-shuffle 'round the room

And when dancin' it was over, for bed we did prepare -
and after that, I fell asleep - the Truth I do declare
me darling and me fifty pounds - me gold'n'all had fled!
And there was I meself alone stark naked lying in bed!

In gazing all around me nothing could I spy
but a woman's skirt and jumper at the foot of the bed did lie
I wrung me hands and tore me hair cryin' "Oh what will I do?
Oh fare the well sweet Newry town, I'm sure I'll ne'er see you!"

When night-time it had come again and daylight was away
I put on the skirt and jumper and I set off for the quay
and when I got on board the ship the sailors all did say
"Oh Jack has grown much prettier since last she went away!

And is this the new spring fashion that you went to buy on shore?
And where's the shop that sells them, d'you think they may have more?"
The captain says "Now Jack, I thought you were for Newry town;
you might have bought a better suit than that for fifty pounds!"

Well I might have bought a better suit if I had had the chance
I met a girl in High Street and she's asked me to a dance
I danced me own destruction and I've done it so complete
that I swear I'll never go back again to dance in Patrick Street"

Come all of you young sailor lads, a warning take by me
And always keep good company when you go on a spree
Be sure'n stay clear of Patrick Street or else you'll rue the day
In a woman's skirt and jumper they will ship you back to sea!

PEOPLES OWN M.P. ,The

How many more must die now, how many must we lose
Until the Island people, their own destiny can choose
From immortal Robert Emmet, to Bobby Sands MP
Who was given 30,000 votes while in captivity

No more he'll hear the larks sweet notes, upon the Ulster air
Or gaze upon the snowflakes pure, for to calm his deep despair
Oh before he went on hunger strike, young Bobby did compose
The Rhythm of Time, the Weeping Wind, and the Sleeping Rose

Chorus:
He was a poet and a soldier, he died courageously
And we gave him 30,000 votes while in captivity

Thomas Ashe, he gave everything, in 1917
The lord mayor of Cork McSweeney died, his freedom to obtain
Never one of all our dead died more courageously
Than young Bobby Sands from Twinbrook, the peoples own MP

Chorus

Forever we'll remember him, the man who died in pain
That his country North & South might be united once again
To mourn him is to organise, and build a movement strong
With ballot box and armalite, with music and with song

POOR PADDY ON THE RAILWAY

In eighteen hundred and forty one
My corduroy breeches I put on
My corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway
The railway
I'm weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty two
From Hartlepool I moved to Grove
And found myself a job to do
Working on the railway
I was wearing
Corduroy breeches
Digging ditches
Pulling switches
Dodging hitchers
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty three
I broke me shuffle across me knee
I went to work for the company
And leave me seldom railway
I was wearing
Corduroy breeches
Digging ditches
Pulling switches
Dodging hitchers
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty four
I landed on the Liverpool shore
Me belly was empty me hands were raw
With working on the railway
The railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty five
When Daniel OConnell he was alive
And Daniel OConnell he was alive
And working on the railway
I was wearing
Corduroy breeches
Digging ditches
Pulling switches
Dodging hitchers
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty six
I changed me trade from carrying bricks
Changed me trade from carrying bricks
To working on the railway
I was wearing
Corduroy breeches
Digging ditches
Pulling switches
Dodging hitchers
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty seven
Poor Paddy was thinking of going to Heaven
Poor Paddy was thinking of going to Heaven
To work upon the railway
The railway
I'm weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

I was wearing
Corduroy breeches
Digging ditches
Pulling switches
Dodging hitchers
I was working on the railway

PREAB SAN OL

Why spend your leisure bereft of pleasure
A massing treasure why scrape and save?
Why look so canny at ev'ry penny?
You'll take no money within the grave
Landlords and gentry with all their plenty
Must still go empty where 're they're bound
So to my thinking we'd best be drinking
Our glasses clinking and round and round

King Solomon's glory, so famed in story
Was far outshone by the lilies guise
But hard winds harden both field and garden
Pleading for pardon, the lily dies
Life's but a bauble of toil and trouble
The feathered arrow, once shot ne'er found
So, lads and lasses, because life passes
Come fill your glasses for another round

The huckster greedy, he blinds the needy
Their strifes unheeding, shouts "Money down!"
His special vices, his fancy prices
For a florin value he'll charge a crown
With hump for tramel, the scripture's camel
Missed the needle's eye and so came to ground
Why pine for riches, while still you've stitches
To hold your britches up? Another round!